The Rancher's Christmas Princess (15 page)

Marcus appeared when they sat down to eat and the ranch hands
came over from the cabin. Everyone agreed the food was first rate. They let Ben
stay up for a while afterward because he’d had his nap so late. When he finally
went to bed, Vince and Jack returned to their quarters. Preston, Silas and
Marcus settled in to watch a poker tournament on television.

It was the perfect opportunity for Belle and Charlotte to get
some presents wrapped. They worked until eleven. And when they were done, there
was a nice, festive pile of packages underneath the big tree.

And Charlotte said, “I left a few things at Silas’s house. I
believe I’ll walk across the yard with him, and bring them back to wrap.”

A few minutes later, Marcus had retired to his room and
Charlotte and Silas were on their way across the snowy yard. Belle and Preston
were alone.

She got the baby monitor from the table in the living room and
went into his arms at the foot of the stairs. “I’ve been thinking about that
rocking horse up in the attic.”

He brushed a tender finger along the side of her cheek. “Have
you?” In his eyes were promises. The kind she could hardly wait for him to
keep.

“I wonder if Richard Gibbons could repaint it, so it’s all
fresh and new.”

“Ask him.” He kissed her, just a light brush of his lips across
hers.

“I believe I will,” she said.

“I’ll bring it down for you tomorrow.”

“Perfect.” They climbed the stairs together, their arms around
each other.

She stayed in his bed until he got up to do his morning
chores.

Back in her own room, she couldn’t get back to sleep. So she
showered and dressed and watched the dawn break from her bedroom window. The
snow was white and endless to the far horizon, over a foot deep.

Doris showed up in her big four-wheel-drive pickup at nine on
the dot.

There was more baking. Richard Gibbons came by in the afternoon
to take the rocking horse away. He said he would have it done by the end of the
week.

Mary Beth Deluca called. She wondered if perhaps Belle and
Charlotte would like to help out with the interdenomination holiday food and
clothing drive.

Belle and Charlotte agreed that they would love to do whatever
they could. So Belle told Mary Beth they would be available both Thursday and
Friday to pick up donations and take what they gathered to the Masonic Hall,
where everything would be packed up to be distributed to families in need.

That evening was like the one before it. Charlotte found
another reason to go home with Silas. And Belle spent the night in Preston’s
bed.

The next morning, Tuesday, at a little after eight, a FedEx
truck pulled into the yard. Belle knew what it was before the driver knocked on
the door: the official paternity test results had arrived.

She signed for them but didn’t open them. She would wait until
Preston came in from working with the horses and feeding his cattle. She knew
what the results would be, of course. But still, she felt a certain
anticipation, a rising sensation in her chest. It was a big thing: the legal
proof that Preston was Ben’s father.

When he came in at two, she waited until he’d gone upstairs to
shower. Then she got the cardboard envelope and went up to his room.

She tapped on his door, but he didn’t answer. He was probably
still in the shower. She tapped again, called his name—not too loudly. Ben was
asleep the next door down. She tried the doorknob. It turned. He hadn’t locked
it, so she dared to go on in.

She was sitting on his bed when he emerged from the bath,
freshly shaved, wearing nothing but a big white towel, carrying a second towel
in his hand. The sight of him had her breath catching in her chest. She loved
everything about him—the fine, clean, strong muscles of his arms, the shape of
his lean feet, his thick, conservatively cut dark blond hair that was sticking
straight up as he rubbed it with that second towel.

“Keep looking at me that way,” he suggested low. “You’ll force
me to kiss you. And you know what will happen after that.”

She sighed and almost told him that she loved him.

But no, it wasn’t the time for that.

Not yet.

Instead, she brought the FedEx envelope out from behind her
back and held it out to him. “It came this morning.”

His big arms dropped to his sides and he said in a
near-whisper, “The results...”

Nodding, she rose. “I thought you should be the one to open
them.”

He tossed the towel across a chair, held out his hand. She
passed him the envelope. He stared silently down at it for several seconds. And
then he looked up at her. “I keep thinking, what if...”

She understood his fear, but she had no doubt it was totally
unfounded. “It’s only the proof, Preston. We all know the truth.”

Still, he didn’t open the thing. He turned stiffly, went to the
chair where he’d thrown the towel and sat down. “It’s crazy. But I keep
thinking...how I really don’t remember what happened that night, between me and
Anne. That seems a like a crime somehow. I...” His voice caught. He gulped.
“He’s mine, right? Nothing can change that.” He held the envelope between his
two hands, his big, broad shoulders slumped, and he looked up at her pleadingly,
needing confirmation.

She gave it. “You’re a fine man, Preston. You don’t need to be
so hard on yourself. Anne knew that you are Ben’s father. If she’d had any
doubts, she would have shared them at the end.”

He swallowed hard again. And then he turned the envelope over
and pulled the tab. He removed the results.

And stared down at them.

“Well?” she prompted, her heart suddenly racing. “What does it
say?”

It took him what seemed like forever to look up at her
again.

Finally, he did. “It’s says there’s a 99.9942% chance that I’m
Ben’s father.” He looked absolutely terrified. “That’s good, right? He’s
mine?”

She laughed. “Oh, Preston. Yes. In terms of statistical
probabilities, that is as good as it gets. Ben is yours—which we already knew.
You can stop worrying now.”

He was blinking like someone had shined a blinding light in his
eyes. “I knew it. But still, I can hardly believe it.”

“Believe it.” All at once, tears clogged her throat and burned
her eyes. She thought of Anne, the summer before their junior year at Duke,
standing on the pebbled shore at Rive Blanche, Montedoro’s most famous beach,
not far from the casino at Colline d’Ambre. Anne, in a white tank suit, her
hands on her lean hips, staring out over the sea. Belle had called to her. She’d
looked back over her shoulder with a tiny, faraway smile....

Anne. Gone. Lost to me forever.
She
pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling.

He saw. “What?” He swept to his feet. “Belle...” He reached for
her.

With a sigh, she curved into him, into his warm, strong arms.
She rested her head against his bare chest. He smelled of soap and shaving
cream.

He kissed her hair. “What is it? Tell me.”

“It’s Anne.” She sighed and pressed her lips to the warm flesh
of his shoulder. “I miss her. I’m going along fine and then...I don’t know. It
just comes at me all over again. It overwhelms me. The fact that she’s gone.
That I will never see her again in this life.”

The test paper rustled as he gathered her closer. He didn’t say
anything. He just held her—until she straightened her spine and gently pulled
free of his embrace.

She brushed the unwelcome tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s
a great moment. We should be celebrating.”

He dropped the test results and the empty envelope on the chair
and grasped her shoulders. “Don’t be sorry. You lost your friend.”

She tried to look away, but he only waited until she finally
met his gaze again. “Really.” She tried her best to sound reassuring. “I’m all
right.”

He wasn’t convinced. “No. It’s tough for you. I see that. Anne
is...gone. And now, in a few weeks, you’ll be saying goodbye to Ben.”

Saying goodbye to Ben.
Her heart
seemed to drop to her midsection.

Because he said it so calmly. So surely. As though it had never
even occurred to him that she might stay on, that the two of them might be
sharing more than a holiday fling.

“But I thought that...” The dangerous words were almost out
before she remembered to hold them back.

He held her gaze, blue eyes full of tender concern. “What? You
thought what?”

She was jumping too fast, she knew that. Assuming too much. She
needed to back off a little, give them both the time and the room they needed to
see if they really might have some kind of a future together.

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s not important. Not now.”

“
What’s
not important?” he
demanded.

She stared in his eyes and knew she was going to open her mouth
and reveal the truth.

Chapter Twelve

B
ut she didn’t. Belle composed her
expression. She went on tiptoe and kissed him. And she spoke gently, without
heat. “Forgive me. It’s an emotional time. I’m sad to have lost my friend. But
I’m happy for you and for Ben.”

Frowning, he studied her face. It took him several seconds to
decide to believe that there was nothing bothering her beyond how much she
missed Anne.

But in the end, he did believe it. He pulled her closer. “Thank
you. For everything. For...more than I can ever repay.”

The dangerous moment was over. She told herself she was glad.
And she kissed him again and said he should hurry and get dressed, so they could
share the big news.

And then Ben woke from his nap and she went to get him up and
the rest of the day unfolded, all warm and cozy in the big, festively decorated
ranch house.

Rhiannon called that evening. Belle took her phone upstairs for
privacy while she talked to her sister.

“Did you think about what I told you?” Rhia asked.

“I did.”

“And?”

“And then Saturday night, I seduced him.”

Rhia laughed out loud. “Fabulous. And now?”

“It’s beautiful here, snowy. The house is all done up for the
holidays. Ben and Preston are growing closer.” There were the tears again,
rising, making her throat clutch. “And I think I’m falling in love.”

Rhia gasped. “Oh, I knew it.”

“Rhia, I want to tell him, to talk to him about the way I feel
for him.”

“So, then, you should talk to him.”

“It seems too soon.”

“Then wait.”

Belle laughed through her tears. “You’re no help.”

Her sister said gently, “No. I suppose I’m not. But I love you
and whatever you decide, I just know it will be the right thing.”

“I just have this feeling, Rhia. That when I do tell him how
much I care, he won’t believe me. He won’t believe that what we have is
something that can last. He’ll send me home. I don’t know what to do. I truly
don’t.”

“Then I will tell you. Slow down. Take a deep breath. And enjoy
every minute.”

* * *

Belle did her best to take her sister’s advice. She kept
busy for the rest of the day. And that night she spent, joyfully, in Preston’s
bed.

Wednesday morning, she got a call from the North Carolina
investigator who had done the background check on Preston. Before he had time to
do much but say his name, she told him that she’d satisfied herself as to
Preston’s suitability as a father and she would appreciate if he would send her
a bill.

He laughed good-naturedly and told her that from his research,
“Preston McCade is a real upstanding citizen. His ranch is in the black, he’s
never been arrested. Never been married. Nobody’s suing him. Ran a red light
once. But that’s about the extent of his reprehensible behaviors. If you want
more, I would need your go-ahead—along with my daily rate plus expenses—to take
a trip to Montana and get a little more up close and personal on the man.”

“That won’t be necessary. Send me the bill?”

“You got it, Yer Highness. You take care now.”

After she hung up, she went ahead and called Anne’s attorney in
Raleigh. She said she was preparing to turn custody of Ben over to his
biological father. The attorney, who had been given previous instructions and a
thorough briefing on the situation and possible outcomes, said he would have all
the necessary documents overnighted to her that day. They could take them to
Preston’s attorney and proceed from there.

That night in bed, she told Preston that the private
investigator she’d hired before she met him had called him an upstanding
citizen. “I told him to send me the bill.”

He laughed and nuzzled her neck. “He didn’t mention all those
banks I robbed?”

She moved in closer, rubbed her cheek against his scratchy one.
“Everyone makes a mistake now and then.” He cradled her breast, caught the
nipple between his fingers and rolled it a little. “Don’t distract me,” she said
a little breathlessly. “There’s more.”

He nibbled on her earlobe. “I’m listening.”

“Tomorrow, we’ll be getting a big pouch of documents from
Anne’s lawyer.”

He was really listening now. He braced up on an elbow. In the
light from the bedside lamp, his square-jawed, beard-scruffy face was eager,
intent. “This is about my getting custody?”

She nodded. “Also, there’s a large trust. Anne was quite
well-off. Almost everything went to Ben. So you’ll have to be brought up to
speed on that.”

“All right.”

“You’ll need a good lawyer on this end.”

“I know one, Joshua Cawley. He does family law and estate
planning. We’ve used him a couple of times and his work is always first rate.
He’s in Missoula.”

“Do you think he could meet with us tomorrow? We should go
right ahead with it, I think. Next week is Christmas week. It will be hard to
get much done then....” And after that, it would be the New Year. She had a
couple of speaking engagements in late January, for Nurses Without Boundaries.
Her life...her
real
life...was calling her, rushing
to meet her. This beautiful holiday season would be ending soon.

Way too soon.

Preston said, “I’ll call him first thing. See if he can fit us
in before the weekend.”

“Wonderful. I told Mary Beth Deluca that Charlotte and I would
help with the food and clothing drive tomorrow and Friday. But I’m sure she’ll
understand if I have to change plans. We could help Saturday, if she could use
us then.”

“Just as long as you save Saturday night for me.”

Her heart lifted. “I just might do that. What, exactly, are you
planning?”

“There’s a dance at the Masonic Hall. Come with me.” When he
looked at her like that, she was absolutely certain there was no way he could
let her go.

“I will consider it,” she told him coolly. But then he peeled
back the blanket and touched her. A moment later, the only word on her lips was
“Yes.”

* * *

The papers from Anne’s lawyer arrived first thing the
next morning. Preston called his lawyer, who told him what personal documents he
would need to bring. The attorney said he could see them that afternoon. That
meeting took three hours. When Belle and Preston left Cawley’s office, the
transfer of custody was officially set in motion. There would be a hearing
before a judge sometime in the New Year, Cawley had told them.

But it was only a formality because all the papers were in
order, the child’s guardian, Belle, would not contest the action and Ben’s
mother had made it clear in her will that Preston was her son’s father and
should be awarded custody if he so desired.

Friday morning, Richard Gibbons delivered the old rocking
horse. He’d done a beautiful job restoring it to its former glory. Belle put it
in the foyer by the tree, where they all could admire it. After the holidays,
Preston could put it away, save it for when Ben was old enough to ride it.

Friday afternoon and Saturday morning, too, Belle and Charlotte
and Marcus gathered clothes and food for families in need. Preston and Silas
were left at the ranch with Ben. It was good practice, everyone agreed, for the
McCade men to take care of the youngest McCade on their own.

Mary Beth and the other ladies who ran the drive were grateful
for the help. When Mary Beth learned of Belle’s work, she said how important it
was “To get out into the world and lend a helping hand...and you know, Belle, if
you ever considered moving to Montana, we could keep you real busy. We’re always
looking for team leaders and coordinators for the state’s Red Cross efforts. And
then we have our United Way donation drives and any number of worthy projects
run by the members of our local churches.”

Belle was touched. “I certainly have felt welcome here. And I
do appreciate your hospitality.”

Mary Beth blushed and allowed as how she’d never known a real
princess before. “It’s an honor, I must tell you. Especially given that you are
as lovely inside as out.”

Belle wanted to cry again. It was getting ridiculous. She’d
always been a bit sentimental, but not the sort who burst into tears just
because someone kind said something nice to her. She thanked Mary Beth and then
got back into the SUV where Marcus waited so patiently behind the wheel.

They left to make another round of donation pickups.

Saturday, they worked into the afternoon. The weather was clear
that day and icy-cold. No new snow was predicted for the rest of that
pre-Christmas weekend.

That night, Charlotte and Silas had volunteered to stay home
and take care of Ben so that Belle and Preston could attend the Christmas dance
at the Masonic Hall. Belle spent a lot of time up in her room getting ready.
Because the weather would be clear, she felt reasonably safe wearing the most
festive outfit she’d brought with her: a slim, knee-length red velvet skirt and
a close-fitting short red jacket with a V neck and three-quarter-length sleeves.
She had a lovely pair of hose with a back seam and a tiny red poinsettia flower
woven at the base of the seam, just above her ankles. And her best red high
heels. She swept her hair up into a twist and wore diamond studs in her
ears.

She’d packed the festive ensemble in a gesture of defiance way
back at the end of October, when she flew to North Carolina to take care of
Anne. Then, she’d still had some hope that Anne might last through Christmas.
Packing the bright skirt and jacket had made the possibility of Anne’s living
longer seem more real somehow.

Yes, she knew that the shoes were a little dangerous on icy Elk
Creek streets, but she would hold on to Preston’s arm nice and tight for
stability.

When she came down the stairs and joined the others in the
living room, Silas whistled and Charlotte said, “You look absolutely beautiful,
dearest.”

Preston, so handsome in black trousers and a dressy black
shirt, said softly, “Oh, yeah, she does.”

They had the Christmas music playing and the big tree all lit
up. Ben sat on the rug trying to stack bright-colored foam blocks. At the sight
of Belle, he cried, “Belle! Play!”

And Preston bent to scoop him up into his big arms. “Belle is
all ready for the night out with me, bud. She’s not getting down on the rug with
you right now. But I’m thinking she might be willing to give us a dance.”

Ben called her name again and held out his arms. Her heart
overflowing with love and tenderness so sharp it was almost painful, she went to
them.

A new song started, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” They danced,
Preston and Belle, with Ben between them. They swayed in time to the bittersweet
song, into the foyer, in front of the tree.

Ben made soft happy sounds, alternately leaning his head on
Preston’s shoulder and then on Belle’s. A bright light went off, surprising
Belle so that she laughed.

Preston said, “Back off, Dad.” Silas had gone and gotten a
camera. And he didn’t listen to Preston. He snapped a couple more quick shots as
they danced.

When the song was over, Ben clung to Belle. She took him and
went into the living room and sat on the sofa. The others joined her. For a
while they sat and chatted, Ben quiet in her lap, his head on her shoulder,
relaxed in her arms. She savored those moments, her heart full and aching at the
same time.

Preston had a reservation at The Bull’s Eye for dinner before
the dance. She sat across from him at the same table he’d reserved the night
they met and couldn’t help fantasizing what it might be like if she did stay
with him, if they made a life together. The Bull’s Eye might become “their”
special place. She loved that idea.

“You’re smiling,” he said, quietly. Intimately. “It’s your
secret smile. What goes through your mind when you smile like that?”

It was a good opening. She shocked herself and took it. “I was
thinking about us, about how things might be if we stayed together. That we
might come here often. It could be ‘our place.’”

He gazed at her steadily when she said that, his eyes
unreadable. And then he picked up the whiskey he’d ordered and knocked back a
big gulp of it. “Sometimes it’s better not to go imagining things that aren’t
going to happen.”

That hurt. And she couldn’t quite just let it go. “How do you
know it won’t happen? How do you know you won’t...want to be with me longer than
just until New Year’s?”

He glanced away. His hand on the table had formed a fist. “Come
on, Belle. Don’t.”

She pushed on, lowering her voice another notch, keeping it
carefully controlled. “Answer my question. Please.”

“Not here.”

“Then where? When?”

He kept trying not to look at her. But she stared straight at
him until, at last, he met her eyes. “It’s not about what I want. Sometimes a
guy doesn’t get what he wants.”

She leaned closer. “You have to know that makes no sense at
all. If you want to be with me and I want to be with you, well, then, we
just...do what we have to do to make that happen.”

His face was so...tight. Closed off from her. “Can we please
not talk about this now?”

Oh, she did long to keep pushing. Somehow, now she’d finally
opened her mouth and tried to say what was on her mind and in her heart, she
just didn’t want to stop. They needed to speak of this. Or at least,
she
needed to.

But he did have a point. Perhaps now, in The Bull’s Eye before
the big Christmas dance, was not the right time to do it.

“All right, Preston.” She picked up her fork and ate a bite of
her potato. “We’ll discuss it later.”

* * *

Pres could already tell that the evening was pretty much
ruined.

He picked up his fork and knife and went to work on his
porterhouse. Across from him, Belle was way too silent. She ate her meal
methodically, so beautiful it hurt to look at her in that perfectly fitted red
velvet jacket, diamonds sparkling in her delicate ears.